this is her happy ending
by tombombadillo
Summary: She always expected him to ask. Always knew it would happen. Eventually.


**Summary: She always expected him to ask. Always knew it would happen. Eventually.**

**A/N: Because fluff is good. I like fluff.**

**Disclaimer: I don't think the writers of Castle are kept awake by plot bunnies. Or maybe they are. I wouldn't know. I'm not one of them.**

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><p>Kate's always insisted that she reads whatever he writes until he has actually finished. At times she waits until the book comes out, stubbornly refusing Castle's offer to get her an advanced copy. When the books eventually come out she'll shut herself away (usually in the bath) and read it until she's as wrinkled as a prune. Then, and only then, will she give into Castle's whining about whether she likes it or not. It's really just his way of getting her to boost his ego because they both know that when it comes to writing, when it comes his writing, to Nikki and Rook, she doesn't want to find fault. Even though he will insist that they are not Nikki and Rook they both know better, and for Kate at least, if something's wrong with them then there's something wrong with them/.

And even though they're both in this for the long run, even though she'd long since built a stile over what little remained of the wall, even though they've just finished re-decorating the new house (she didn't want to move in with him because Kate Beckett is stubborn and wanted them to do this together, to dive into it as one, and not one just jumping headlong (if not happily) into the other's swimming pool, they bought a house together. They didn't have this discussion about a house over an apartment. They didn't need to. They both knew that eventually, at some point in the not quite so distant future, that they would need extra space, and Kate had already worked out which room would be the nursery (Rick, as it turned out, had the exact same idea) and he'd waltzed her around the rooms, getting paint where paint wasn't supposed to go and writing stupid things on the walls that made her laugh and want to cry and hit him and kiss him and forget the painting and make use of the new bed that had been delivered. They had, eventually. But only after they'd made excellent use of the upstairs hallway, a wall that held fond memories (if you could call it that) for both of them.

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><p><em>It had been during the showing and while she was actually trying to measure the house and how she could imagine herself living in it - living in it with Castle, and Alexis when she was home from college, and Martha when she visited - he kept throwing her furtive looks. Looks that she recognised from sitting across from each other at the dining table, when she was sat doing paperwork at the precinct and refusing to look at him. It made her stomach flutter and her heart pound and it really wasn't long before he dragged her away from the estate agents and up the stairs and he couldn't even wait to reach the bathroom or any room, he just pinned her against the wall. His muscular thighs pressing against hers, one hand at her neck tangled in her hair, the other pressing both their hands against the wall while his hot breath coasted across her cheek. She still wasn't used to this. Wasn't used to one breath, one touch, one word turning her from tough as steal Detective Beckett to Katherine Beckett, out of breath and wobbly knees. It really didn't help that he knew what he could do. Really, really didn't help that he decided to practice, as he put it, at the most inappropriate times. She'd already said that if she did it while she was interrogating or interviewing anybody then she would not be held accountable for where her shoe ended up. Although, right now shoes were the furthest thing from her mind, and what she wanted was a lack of clothes and a more comfortable place because, yes, Kate Beckett liked sex, but walls were uncomfortable and too hard and always ended up with the two of them sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Beds and sofa's and showers and baths she could manage. Walls, no. Not unless she's desperate. And right now? With Rick's hand pushing up the hem of her shirt and his fingers dancing across the skin of her hips and dipping below the waistband of her jeans, right now Kate Beckett couldn't care less about sprawling limbs and him complaining about his knees and his back. Her head thuds back against the wall and Rick chuckles against her neck and she wants to punch him and kiss him until he's begging and pleading and-<em>

"_Are you interested in seeing the garden?"_

_Kate huffs, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to laugh while Rick presses his forehead against her shoulder. The rest of the viewing is spent in an awkward silence which Kate has to physically stop herself from breaking because the whole thing is just too funny. She should tell him off when he speeds home, should remind me that she is a cop. She learnt long ago that telling him she could arrest him doesn't work because he gets that look back in his eye and complains that she's never used his handcuffs on him. This time, this time she doesn't really care._

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><p>The last Nikki Heat book is different. That's the end of their story. It's the end of the years of having Castle follow her around like a lost puppy, the end of telling him numerous times to <em>stay in the car<em>, of making awkward yet annoyingly funny jokes about cases. He's not at the precinct as much anymore, mainly because he no longer needs to use it as an excuse to see her anymore, doesn't need to use it as an excuse to bring her coffee every morning. He pops up on occasions, surprising her with some crazy theory because she's been so busy with financials and alibi's and phone records that she doesn't notice him gazing at the murder board. This time she insists that she at least gets the final draft, the one that gets sent to the publishers to be looked over and checked and double checked before being sent to print. And he was happy to oblige. He had that twinkle in his eye, the one that told her he was planning something. She'd left him to his scheming, grabbed her coat and returned to work before Gates had chastised her for going over her lunch hour again. She doesn't expect the book to be placed in her hands within the next two weeks. She knows him better than that. Knows that he procrastinates and finds excuses and procrastinates some more until he spends hours on his laptop hammering away, oblivious to anything and anyone. She's pretty sure she could perform a strip tease in front of him and he wouldn't glance her way.

She told him in February that she wanted the advanced copy and it's not until the end of June that he drops it on her lap as she's trying to read. She looks up at him, and the sun's hitting his eyes and making them sparkle. It makes him look like he's about to cry. Maybe he is. He's got that small smile, the one where he's taking her somewhere as a surprise. She never asks then. She likes being surprised by Rick Castle. He doesn't say anything, just smiles and waltzes away. He knows she prefers to read by herself, getting sucked into the world of whatever characters are inked out on the pages. He hasn't come up with a title yet, but this doesn't surprise her. Titles are usually a last minute deal for him. Dedications, however. They're a different thing. He usually has them in mind before he even figures out the plot of the book.

_I once met a girl who doesn't believe in fairy tales._

_This is her happy ending._

It hits home for her. Because it's true. Before Rick Castle came along life for her was life and death and brutal murder and solving cases. Fate and magic and happy endings were things for ten year old girls to believe in, not for Kate Beckett, NYPD Detective. But then along came Writer Boy, and slowly but surely, whether he purposefully did it or it was a complete accident, he showed her a world of her own kind of happy endings, of justice bought to grieving families, of dates that weren't dates, of family dinners, daring rescues, stupid jokes that aren't funny but she laughs anyway. She'd spent so long believing that the world was just full of death and gun fights and Kevlar vests that she'd forgotten everything else. New York was the city that never sleeps. There's life _everywhere_, and he'd managed to drag her out of that rabbit hole and shove her out into bright sunlight.

The plot, she realises, is a little bit gruesome and a whole lot of twisted with the murderer kidnapping young women and concealing them in places. Behind wall panels, in the ground, in chests under the bed. Nikki only catches onto the case when a demolition crew uncovers the decayed remains of one in a wall. It's obvious they've been hidden while they're still alive. Trapped in these confined spaces screaming and scratching at the sides, begging for help and mercy until the oxygen slowly runs out and they slip into the dark comfort of unconsciousness. It's not the first time she's lost her lunch over a crime scene and it won't be the last. She's thankful that it's her day off, aware that Rick probably planned it that way, knowing that she's going to positively hate _everything_ if she has to drop the book and go and look at a dead body. Rick works around her, bringing her the occasional cup of coffee and doesn't complain when she forgets them. She can hear Alexis laugh when she rings from college; she's more than aware of Kate's behaviour when it comes to a new book. She'd have kept on reading through the night, but come 10pm Rick comes along and plucks the book from her hands. She doesn't complain (much) but she does have to be at work tomorrow, and he's long upheld the rule that if work's tomorrow then she's having an early night. He has numerous rules. If she's going to be home late, she ring's him and he brings her dinner. If she's had a bad day, then she has to tell him. He lets her tell him at her own pace and in her own way, but she has to tell him. She's only allowed five cups of coffee a day, he makes her lunch and has granted the job of making sure she eats it to Ryan and Esposito. And if anything goes wrong, absolutely anything, she has to let him know and whatever he's doing he drops it and comes to her aid. They used to drive her crazy and she rarely upheld the five cups a day rule and with one well aimed glare Ryan and Esposito stop bugging her to eat her lunch. Of course, they then inform him and he comes in and annoys her until she does. But it works for them. It works for her. She feels better. Not as exhausted. Not as stretched. She's happier. So at 10pm the book is gone and Castle is dragging her off to bed, watching her with careful eyes as she stands at the sink and brushes her teeth.

"What?" she asks, mumbling around her toothbrush.

"Five years and you're still not used to the staring." He huffed. "How's the book?"

"It's… interesting." She rinses her mouth out, turns around and leans against the sink. "The plot is… bordering on psychotic. I wonder about your brain sometimes."

"So do I, it's nothing new." He grins. "But it's good, right?"

"I'm not answering. I'm not adding to your already enormous ego." She walks past him, pulling her hair out of the bun and letting it fall about her shoulders. She got it cut again last week and she's still not quite used to the new length. But it's now far less straggly and split end-y. "Are you coming to bed too, or am I sleeping alone tonight?"

"That's not even a question." He replied, pulling his shirt over his head. "A gentleman should never let a lady sleep alone." Kate snorted with laughter into her pillow. "Was that a jibe at me not being a gentleman or you not being a lady?"

"Well, why don't you get over here and prove you're a man?"

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><p>Gate's had enforced this rule that even when there was no case, and you had no paperwork that you had to remain at the precinct until your shift ended. It hadn't earned her a place in any body's good books, and explained why everyone was feeling just a tad grumpy today. She was almost tempted to ring Castle and tell him to bring some doughnuts or coffee or just himself. It would cheer everyone up and piss Gates off at the same time. But he had his own stuff to do, promoting and signing and speeches and meetings and all sorts. It had been like that all week, and on some occasions he was out of the front door before she was and home later. But this was why she was sat at her desk, feet shoeless and propped up on Castle's seat, Covered Heat open in her lap. She'd spent the best part of yesterday reading it and was now only a couple of chapters away from the ending. It's been an emotional roller coaster full of arguments that she refuses to let bother her because it's them and not them/ and more make-up sex than she could throw a stick at. Though she's learnt to skip those scenes until she gets home.

At the minute she's too immersed in Nikki being in full take down mode to listen to Ryan talk to his three year old daughter. The blonde haired, blue eyed girl has her father so resolutely wrapped around her little finger that she finds more than enough amusement listening in on Ryan telling her that she needs to eat her crusts and Niamh somehow managing to get out of it time and time again, much to the consternation of Jenny. And if it's not Ryan and Niamh, it's Esposito making googly eyes down the phone to Lanie. They're all a bunch of helpless romantics.

It's the last chapter. The last chapter of their lives and she's nervous and excited because knowing Castle, he's done something. Some major plot twist that's going to shock the world. He's done it before. She was more than just a little bit gob smacked when he killed Storm.  
>This scene takes place in early autumn, maybe a month or so after the original case. Rook has recovered from the gunshot he took to his shoulder after he dived in front of Nikki (she'd told him numerous times to <em>not do that<em>but does he ever listen?) and they're walking through Central Park. The air is crisp, the sky is blue, the leaves on the trees slowly turning gold and yellow and brown. She is in her black pea coat, bare hands shoved in her pockets to keep out the chill. Rook is next to her, hands in his own pockets, rattling off some story or article he read about/has written/will write but she's not really listening. It's only when he stands in front of her does she pay attention to him.

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><p><em>"Nikki." he says. It's not a question.<em>_  
><em>_"Hmm?" she hums in response, dragging her eyes away from the New York skyline to look at him.__  
><em>_"I love you." This isn't news to her. He's said it before and she has no doubt that he'd say it again. She raises her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. "I love you, and I know you love me, even if you don't express it in the same way. I can see it, every time you look at me and smile, every time I bring you coffee and pastries, even when you yell at me for taking a bullet for you. I know you love me." Nikki stares at him, baffled. "What are you-"__  
><em>_"Shush. Monumental occasion. I'm talking."__  
><em>_Normally she'd hit him. Normally she'd grab his ear and twist it and tell him to shut up until he laughed and apologized. That's normally. Normally is not him bending down on one knee and pulling a box from his pocket. Normally is not him holding it out to her like some form of present. Normal is not -__  
><em>_"Katherine Beckett, will you marry me?"_

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><p>And then it stops. And that's it. And Kate Beckett is left sat in her chair with her heart thudding against her ribs and the sound of the book falling to the floor as she sits in shocked silence. He would. He would do that. The stupid, stupid man knows what his words do to her, mean to her, and he goes and does that and she's left… she doesn't know. She knew the question would come eventually. Knew she was his third time lucky, he was her one and done. She reaches for her phone, hitting speed dial and listening to the dial tone. Ryan and Esposito are watching her carefully. Worry? No. There's something different. They knew. They sodding knew he was going to do this. Oh, she was going to kill them both. And him.<p>

He answers on the third ring with a hello that's the littlest bit out of breath. She can hear traffic. He might have gone for a run. "Kate, you okay?"  
>"I finished the book." she replied, a little bit breathless herself.<br>"Ohhh." he replied, and he pauses for a moment. "What do you think?"  
>"I… Rick…" He laughs. "You…"<br>"Cat got your tongue?"  
>"Something like that."<br>He laughs again. "Open your desk drawer."  
>She does.<br>"Reach into the back. Right at the back where you never tidy."  
>Her long fingers fumble around, picking up a stapler, a good number of pens, a possible cereal bar, until her fingers close around a small box. It's velvet under her hands.<br>"You got it?" Oh, he's enjoying this. Smug bastard.  
>"I… got it."<br>"Good."  
>"Most men are usually here to put the ring on, you know."<br>"Is that you answering my question?"  
>"Not until you're here." she replies, setting the box on the table.<br>There's a ding behind her, the elevator doors opening. "What makes you think I'm not?"

She span around in her seat, still holding the phone to her ear even though there was really no need to, and watches him duck and weave his way past uniforms until he's standing in front of her, grinning. "Hi." He says, blue eyes bright and shining and he's almost on the verge of tears. "You need to hang up and call Lanie." Not what she expected him to say?

"What?"

"Phone Lanie. Put her on speakerphone. She already missed Ryan proposing to Jenny, do you really think she's going to be happy that she misses this one? It is us, after all. And you _know_ what Lanie is like when it comes to us. She would murder you."

He has a valid point, and she laughs. She hangs up on Rick, hits speed dial again and waits for the M.E. to pick up. Lanie answers surprisingly quickly, and Kate is pretty sure that she's the only one to not know that this was going to happen. She pulls the phone away from her ear when Lanie shrieks down it. Yeah. She definitely knew it was coming.

"Kate, if you want me to actually put the ring on your finger then you need to actually give me the box."

She looks down, realising she's still gripping the small box in her hand. "Who says I want you to put it on my finger?"

"Because you said that I needed to be here if I wanted to put it on your finger. That's essentially a yes." She laughed, pressing the box into his hand. "Is that a yes?"

"Definitely a yes."

She can't work out what surprised her the most that day. The fact that he proposed or the fact that Gates gave her the rest of the day off.

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><p>It's later, much later, and she's in bed, head pillowed on Castle's shoulder, left hand splayed across his chest. She's happy and content and relaxed and <em>engaged<em> to _Richard Castle_, who is currently humming some weird version of Here Comes the Bride against the top of her head. He's got his arm wrapped around her, one hand at her waist, fingers trailing up and down her ribs, tracing the now pale scar. She lifts her head up, resting it on top of her hand and looks at him. "What does Nikki say?" she asks eventually, looking at him.

He shrugged, now combing his fingers through her hair. "Don't know. Didn't think about it. Let people make their own decision. Carry on their story in their heads."

"That's not necessarily a happy ending though."

"Just because she might not say yes doesn't mean they don't get their happy ending. Nikki loves Rook, Rook loves Nikki. Getting married doesn't prove you're in love. Sure, it's an expression of love. It says I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But it's just a ceremony. A change of a name. A ring. It's just pomp and circumstance."

"So why are we getting married. I love you, you love me. Why do we need anything else?"

"Because I want to see you in a wedding dress. I want to see you walk down the aisle on your father's arm. I want to hear you say I do, and say I do in return. I want to dance with you on the dance floor. I want to cut the cake with you. I want to whisk you away on a honeymoon, and carry you in through the hotel door even though you'd get in a grump because you can do it yourself. I want to take the dress off you and count every single vertebrae in your spine even though I know there's 34, and I want to let your hair down and-"

Kate presses a finger against his mouth, effectively shutting him up. "Back to Nikki and Rook."

He huffs against her finger. "Well, you did ask. But they don't need to be married. Not everyone gets married. But it doesn't mean they love each other any less."

"So they get a happy ending?"

He smiles down at her, running a finger across her cheekbone until his hand slides into her hair and pulls her up so he can kiss her again. "If you believe in that kind of thing."


End file.
